


Help Your Fellow Man

by Rabid_X



Series: 12 Gays of Christmas [4]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Christmas, Emotional Constipation, Hurt/Comfort, Jim gets all protector-y, M/M, Mugging, Sentinel/Guide, don't worry it will be okay, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabid_X/pseuds/Rabid_X
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part four of 12 Gays of Christmas: Christmas Carol Edition. Blair gets mugged right before Christmas and Jim needs to set things right.<br/>This is one pair of a multiple fandom work. The stories are not connected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help Your Fellow Man

**Author's Note:**

> My writing partner, PrometheusHarpe, and I started doing this many Christmases ago.  
> The premise is six lovely gay couples at the Christmas season.This year I write them for her. This is un-beta'd so let me know the mistakes. Enjoy!  
> (eventually to be cross-posted on Live Journal)

Blair limped into Major Crimes, a uniformed officer at his elbow. His right hand was clenched tight and he had a spectacular bruise rising up on his left cheekbone almost before Jim’s eyes. The bullpen fell silent at the spectacle and the officer looked nervous as he peered around. 

“I’m looking for Detective Ellison?” 

“Shit, kid, what happened?” H asked, hopping up from his desk.

“Are you Ellison?” The officer asked. 

H shook his head and pointed at Jim. “He is. Ellison?”

Jim’s eyes narrowed in on Blair’s face. He could see far too deeply right now, his vision focusing on the purple and red spot. He could see the blood pooling, turning darker. He raked his eyes up and caught the light glinting off Blair’s pupils. They reflected back confusion and pain.

His guide was hurt.

Anger welled up and he stalked over, focus narrowed on Blair and Blair alone. He had to get him out of here, had to get him back home and safe. 

“Jim.”

The lost tone in Blair’s voice snapped Jim out of his fugue instantly. He put a hand on Blair’s arm and just barely restrained himself from patting the kid down for further injuries. “Blair, what happened?”

“I, uh, got mugged on the way to the youth center. Officer Thomas and his partner took my report and brought me here,” Blair smiled weakly. “I’m okay, I swear. Just got socked once and fell on the ice is all.”

Jim looked at the officer who shrugged. “He insisted on coming straight here, refused medical attention. He’s banged up mostly.”

“Thanks, Thomas was it? Get me a copy of that report,” Jim said. “I’ll take him from here.”

“You got it. Sorry about your luck, Mr. Sandburg. I hope the rest of your holidays are better,” Officer Thomas nodded and left.

“Okay, people,” Captain Bank’s voice boomed out. “Sandburg is walking and talking so get back to work. You two, my office.”

*****

“Here,” Jim put a cup of coffee in Blair’s hand, frowning at the still clenched right one. “Hey, what do you have?”

“Oh,” Blair shook his head and his eyes cleared. His hand unfurled revealing a curved hook of brown plastic. “Um, it’s the handle to my guitar case. That’s what they took.”

“That’s it?” Simon asked, leaning against his desk.

“Yeah, that’s it. I think they got scared off when people came out of the Center,” Blair said. “They just yanked it and ran off. I was supposed to play for the carol sing-a-long tonight.”

Jim growled and stopped short of running his fingers through Blair’s hair. Simon sighed and shoved his glasses up to rub at his nose. The kid was hurt and probably in shock and his star detective wasn’t going to get anything done with this going on.

“Jim, take him to a clinic and get him checked out and then go home. I don’t want to see you back until you can tell me he’s okay, got it?” Simon pointed at Jim and then the door.

Some of the tension bled out of Jim’s shoulders. “Okay. Come on let’s get you out of here.”

*****

Jim got Blair out of his coat and situated on the couch. He propped the crutches for his twisted ankle up next to him and stood back. All he really wanted to do was get Blair stripped down, showered and investigate ever inch of him for more injuries but the clinic doctor assured him that Blair had a mild facial contusion and a sprained ankle. He recommended anti-inflammatories, over the counter pain killers and ice for both. 

“Okay, I’m going to get you some ice, pills and tea. How’s that sound?” Jim headed for the kitchen. He had to get himself under control if he wanted to be effective help for his partner. 

“That,” Blair sighed, “sounds heavenly. Thanks.”

At least the kid was starting to sound normal. Jim let his shoulders drop one more click. He got the ice pack, a bag of frozen peas, a clean kitchen towel and the ibuprofen and got the tea kettle on. Coming back to the couch, he put the towel and peas on Blair’s propped up ankle and handed him the ice pack. Blair pressed it to his face and groaned happily.

“Yeah that feels good,” Blair’s eyes closed and he laid his head back. “And I don’t need to be looking at you to know you’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Jim snorted. “I’m angry. Some punks mugged you, Sandburg. Who knows what they would’ve done if folks didn’t come out.”

“Hey, hey,” Blair sat up and opened his eyes. “I know, okay? I was scared and yeah I got punched, but it was a pawn shop guitar and I am okay now, Jim. I promise. You’re getting into your Protector mode right now and that makes sense. Your instincts are hardwired to…”

“Damn it, Blair,” Jim snapped. “This isn’t about Sentinel crap! This is about you! You are my friend and my partner and I don’t like you getting hurt.”

Blair raised his eyebrows and chuffed. “I know. You think I like getting hurt? Jim, I’m just saying its natural is all. And for whatever reason you’re so keyed up, thank you.”

“Thank you?” Jim stared. His body was vibrating and the tension in his shoulders had come back. His fingers were curling up and down, trying to decide if he needed them to be healing hands or weapons. Blair’s scent was flooding his nostrils and it was way too damn hot in the apartment. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I gotta go get that report.”

“Jim,” Blair pushed himself further upright on the couch and watched Jim snatch his coat off the rack. “Jim!”

A slam of the door and the shrieking of the tea kettle were the only responses he got.

“Well fuck.”

*****

_Jim, its Blair. Man, you say I don’t pay enough attention to my cell phone and now you’re sending me straight to voice mail. Okay, listen. Please come home. I’m worried._

_Jim, it’s been three hours. Please… I hope you haven’t zoned out on me. Just call me?”_

_Jim, I’m not calling Simon but I am seriously considering calling dispatch to squawk your radio. One o’clock in the morning, Jim. One o’clock and… I am sounding like an anxious parent, I know but. Fuck. I am going to bed. Wake me when you get in. And water the Christmas tree, okay? I’m not so sure about my balance._

*****

A cool hand brushing his hair back woke Blair. He opened his eyes and turned muzzily onto his back. “Jim?”

“Yeah, chief, it’s me. Sorry I worried you.” Blair could hear sorrow in Jim’s voice and he rubbed his eyes.

“Ow. Damn it, Jim, what time is it?” Blair pushed himself up and almost collided with Jim’s chest. 

“Watch your cheek,” Jim chided gently and wrapped a big arm around Blair’s chest. He tugged Blair back against him. “It’s noon and I’m sorry.”

Blair relaxed back and sighed. “You said that already. I’ll forgive you if you tell me what happened and just tell me. I swear this isn’t a lab test or anything.”

Jim nuzzled Blair’s hair and breathed in the scent of him: sandalwood, cedar and the acrid tang of sweat that he never the less loved. He breathed in deep, knowing he was imprinting on his guide again and not caring. Blair hadn’t slept upstairs last night and Jim was angry at himself for leaving him alone and injured even if it was only mildly so.

“I think it is a Sentinel thing,” he said at last. “I just couldn’t let it go, Blair. It was like my skin was itching, too tight and I couldn’t stay still. I had to find the men who hurt you.”

“Did you?” Blair’s voice was clam, the cool instructor despite the graveled undertones of sleep.

“Yeah, I did actually. They weren’t too far away really. Just a few streets over,” Jim turned his head and rubbed his cheek on Blair’s hair. “They didn’t try to sell the guitar, they were using it for fuel.”

“Fuel?” Blair tried to shift around but Jim held him close. “They… oh hell. They were homeless.”

“Yeah and scared as hell when I came up.”

Blair pushed an elbow in Jim’s side and squirmed around to face him. “Are they in jail, Jim?”

Jim brushed Blair’s hair back and looked into worried eyes. “Mugged and still worried about the other guys. One’s in jail and one’s in the hospital.”

“Jim!” Blair “You didn’t…”

“Relax, Blair. No I didn’t though I wanted to. I could still smell you on them and God, I was so angry,” Jim shook his head. “But no, one of them was sick. Pneumonia. So I got him an ambulance and booked the other guy. He’s going to be out of the cold and get food into him. It’s up to you if you want to push for harder prosecution.”

“Do they have a record?” Blair asked.

Jim shook his head again. “I think the weather and the sickness made them desperate. The shelters fill up fast this time of year and it’s hard for some of those guys to get help.”

Blair let out a shaky breath and leaned into Jim. “Okay. Okay then. I’m glad you’re okay, they’re okay and I … kinda want to go see them both later. Maybe give them a chance. It’s Christmas in a couple of days. Is that okay?”

“That sounds good, chief.”

Jim held him close and rubbed his back, relishing the feel of Blair’s warmth against him. He hadn’t lost Blair, hadn’t really been in danger of loosing him and the knots in his stomach and shoulders finally gave way. Right now he could just hold him and keep him close. 

Then his phone beeped from his pocket and he dug it out. Blair chuckled and muttered about responsible phone use and shoved away to hobble to the bathroom. Jim smiled as he read the text message and got Blair’s crutches ready. When Blair came out of the bathroom, he held them out.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going? Man, I am not even awake yet,” Blair hooked them under his arms and followed Jim out of his room. “I don’t even have my shoes, well shoe on, Jim.”

Jim stooped down by the door and held up one snow boot. “You just need this.”

Blair let Jim maneuver him to the couch and slip the boot on like he was a bleary-eyes Cinderella. Then Jim helped him carefully out onto the balcony, pausing only long enough to slip a throw blanket over his shoulders. 

“Jim, what is going on?” Blair looked up at him, the gently falling snow catching in his riotous morning hair.

Jim didn’t reply, just steered Blair to the railing and pointed down. As Blair looked over carefully, singing started below. Twenty children, a few parents and the director of the Youth Center were serenading him with “Jingle Bells”. Blair laughed and leaned against Jim, watching the festive spectacle through three more songs and a rousing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”. Then they all waved good-bye and shouted their well-wishes before piling into a couple of vans and driving off to spread more cheer.

“They’re going to carol at some of the hospitals and clinics,” Jim said, tugging the blanket tighter around Blair. “And your director buddy, Carl, said he’d give us an update on Alvin.”

“Who’s Alvin?” Blair asked, pressing closer to Jim.

“The sick guy who jumped you. And get this, the one in jail is named Theodore,” Jim didn’t hide his grin as he helped Blair back inside.

“If Simon booked them, I will die right here,” Blair said. “I shouldn’t laugh but, man that is weird.”

“He didn’t, yeah you should laugh, I like you laughing and it is very weird. Now how about I get you back on the couch and get us some breakfast,” Jim said. “Sound good?”

*****

“Jim, what is that?”

“Mmm?” Jim lifted his head from Blair’s lap. They’d spent the rest of the day inside, Jim mother henning Blair and Blair for once letting him. A couple of hours ago they’d sprawled out on the couch and watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” and dozed off and on. “What’s what?”

“That thing over by the tree,” Blair pointed and Jim grinned. 

“Finally noticed?” Jim sat up and went over, pulling out the big case. “Looks to me like a guitar case.” He set it gently in Blair’s lap. “I think you can open it early, Santa won’t mind.”

Blair stared at Jim, blue eyes searching his before he shook his head and opened the case. A new guitar lay inside, traditional finish surrounded by a cherry red border and around the sounding hole was engraved a vine of flowers with a humming bird. Blair touched it with reverent fingers. 

“An Epiphone Hummingbird, Jim this is… amazing. And expensive.”

Jim made a noise of dismissal and sat on the couch. “I thought it was well, pretty. And it sounded beautiful. You deserve it, Blair. Merry Christmas.”

Blair hooked Jim in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Jim.”


End file.
